


Spring Flowers and May Showers

by PumpkinWitch000



Series: Reader One-Shots [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bookstores, Complete, Diagon Alley, F/M, Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Pining, Post-War, Romance, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, flower shop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-10 06:15:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17420618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PumpkinWitch000/pseuds/PumpkinWitch000
Summary: You met him in spring, the season of new beginnings. It seemed simple enough, get your newly purchased bookstore up and running. Do what you have to, to succeed. Don't waste time. You'd never calculated in the fact that you'd be falling hard for the owner of the flower shop across the road. But really, looking back, you weren't even surprised.Falling for Neville had been as inevitable as the seasons changing.*Reader can be seen as either male or female





	Spring Flowers and May Showers

Diagon Alley in the springtime had always been beautiful to you. There was something magical about the tiny green clusters decorating bare branches, something alluring about the scent of fresh baked goods and the flutter of jewel-toned robes in the breeze. The air was warm, finally, the last of the snow having melted away. Birds perched upon rooftops, singing cheerily in their delicate whistles and chirps. Despite being in London, magic helped clear away the impurities and the air you breathed was crisp and clean. It was wonderful. As your legs took you down cobbled paths, you let the rumble of voices wash over you under the endless blue sky. It was calm, it was peaceful, and somehow the houses seemed twice as vibrant after the horrors of the war.

 

Spring meant new beginnings, and this was yours.

 

The street your newly purchased storefront was on, was charmingly simple. It didn’t hold the grandeur of Gringott’s marble columns, nor did it have the posh elegance of the fancier districts. Instead it was home to a flower shop, an apartment complex, a music store, a bakery, and a couple houses. Though you’d already seen it before when first choosing your property, the flower shop still managed to draw your eyes. Your store was directly across from it, dark and unused, everything the flower shop just _wasn’t_.

 

A large wooden sign stated ‘ _The Garden’_ , the letters burnt into the wood in a curling script, mimicking the vines that were twined around the edges. Despite being early spring the vines had blooming white flowers. The area outside the storefront was dominated by a thriving garden with so many types of flowers and herbs you barely knew a fraction. Heady sweet scents carried on the breeze toward you and for a moment you let yourself stare at the shop. Someday, you decided, you’d visit inside, if only to see what it looked like. You couldn’t help but wonder what the owner would be like, to so carefully maintain their store and gardens.

 

Sightseeing over, you headed into your shop to begin working on making it ready for business. The next few hours found you casting Cleaning Charm after Cleaning Charm as you made what used to be a bar into what you hoped would be a thriving bookstore. Around noon the shelves you’d ordered were delivered and you set to putting them up with a bit of help from charms. By the time the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon you were drenched in sweat, dust and dirt sticking to you. The bookstore was finally starting to look more like a bookstore however, and you were tremendously proud of that fact as you surveyed your work.

 

The floorboards had been cleaned to a polish, any cracks repaired. Windows, no longer coated in grime, let in thick streams of honey-gold sunlight. The shelves, though bare, were finally standing proud and you could already imagine how the longue area would look once you had the furniture in. There was still no desk for the clerk, but you’d still made good progress. A smile was playing around your lips as you locked up for the night. You didn’t notice him until he spoke.

 

“Um, excuse me, are you the new store owner?”

 

You whipped around at the sound of the voice, a reaction honed into you despite the war having ended two years ago. The man standing there was handsome, though he didn’t swagger like a Veela may have. His jaw was well sculpted with a hint of roundness, his eyes a warm brown that went well with his sun-bleached blond hair. The clothes he was wearing were noticeably muggle and covered in dirt stains around the knees. You found yourself momentarily speechless, in the face of both a hopelessly handsome man and the knowledge that you were meeting said man while looking like you’d just gone rolling through an abandoned house. He gave you a crooked grin and ran a hand through his hair before repeating his question.

 

“Er- yeah, I’m them- I mean that’s me,” You said, the words tripping over your tongue. A gentle heat settled in your cheeks and you fidgeted anxiously with the hem of your sleeve.

 

The man smiled again, slightly gentler this time and he said, “My name is Neville Longbottom, I own the garden shop across the road. I saw you were doing stuff in there, so I thought I’d introduce myself.”

 

Neville Longbottom? _The_ Neville Longbottom? While he was nowhere near the fame of the Boy-Who-Lived, Neville was still remembered for slaying Nagini with the Sword of Gryffindor. Not to mention leading the resistance during that horrible year under Death Eater reign. Your parents had kept you in hiding that final year, so you hadn’t seen Longbottom’s ‘transformation.’ Still, you couldn’t help the sudden thrill of nerves at being near someone the Wizarding public considered a hero. Witch Weekly’s obsession with him suddenly made much more sense with the setting sun illuminating his features. You swallowed once, twice, and reminded yourself he wouldn’t appreciate a drooling fan. He was just another bloke, no need to lose your cool. You tried to remember the quiet boy he’d been before he’d gotten famous and hot. It was just Neville.

 

You gave him your name, adding, “I really like your gardens, they’re beautiful. Do you take care of them yourself?”

 

Neville nodded, saying with a note of pride, “Yes, I haven’t had the need to hire another person yet. I’m glad you like them, it took ages to work out the Atmosphere Charm so they’d all bloom together.”

 

You grinned at that, imagining him struggling with the tricky charm work. His body was roped with muscles and tanned from toiling in the garden, somehow it was surprising he also had an intellectual side. It was a nice surprise. You could remember vaguely the jokes other students used to make about how Longbottom was nearly a Squib. To see how far he’d clearly come made your throat just a tad tight. You shook the musing thoughts away and replied with a smile, “You’ve done an amazing job! How long have you owned the flower shop?”

 

“Long enough, since the war ended really. I didn’t bother going back to Hogwarts,” He shrugged, unconcerned.

 

You had noticed of course, how could you not? Everyone had talked about how Neville Longbottom, a hero, had gone to work in Diagon Alley of all places. You had heard rumors of a flower shop but to think his flower shop had ended up being the one across from you . . . it was ironic. A seed of hope sprouted in you. Maybe Longbottom would be good for business, who wouldn’t want to browse a bookstore after perusing a flower shop? More people in the area could only be better for you. You glanced up when you realized Longbottom had asked you a question and you’d missed it.

 

“Um, sorry-“ You said, cringing a bit, “I didn’t catch that.”

 

Oddly enough he just smiled a little, saying, “I asked you what you’re planning to turn the bar into.”  
  
“A bookstore,” You admitted, a little embarrassed, “I know there’s already Flourish and Blotts, but I wanted to have a mixture of magical and non-magical books. Somewhere you can sit down and read in and get lost in.”

 

“I think that sounds brilliant,” Neville said.

 

You gave him a hesitant smile, “Really?”

 

“Really.”

 

The smile he returned to you was more brilliant than the setting sun.

 

-o **O** o- -o **O** o- -o **O** o-

 

The next morning found you facing the flower shop uncertainly. Stood among the plants you were in a bath of scents and you could easily spend a year just breathing it in. People might find it weird though. You shook yourself a bit, no need to start rambling. It was just polite to visit your neighbour. Besides, you were curious. There was no harm in that, nothing weird or unusual. Realizing you were still stalling, you swallowed hard before opening the worn wooden door. There was a tinkling chime as a bell-shaped plant above the door shook. For a moment your eyes had to adjust to the difference between the dim interior and the morning sun.

 

Inside the store was as natural and magical as the outside. Shelves held various pots and jars holding either live or dried plants. There were gardening tools hidden against the worn wood walls that had patches of moss growing here and there. Grass sprouted in the cracks on the stone floor. You stepped forward, dodging hanging herb bundles and feeling a bubble of emotion expanding in your chest. It smelled earthy and rich and _green_ and it made you nostalgic in a way only bookshops could. You loved it, you decided, absolutely loved it. Neville had created something that seemed more plant than man-made, with the way nearly every surface was taken over by greenery. Even the shop’s lighting was given by brightly pulsing vines with buds like living moonlight. A bee flew by you, not so much as bothering you. You couldn’t help the smile as you looked around.

 

At the sound of your name you looked over, realizing you’d missed the clerk in your sweep. To your surprise it was Neville standing there, his clothes still muggle and his face still irritatingly handsome. You pried your mind out of those thoughts, and managed to say, “Hey Neville! I wanted to say good morning. How’s business going today?”

 

He grinned as you walked over, smoothing one hand on the counter before saying, “Not bad. A few purchases at least. There were a few witches who just wanted to ogle though,” He added, grimacing.

 

You laughed at that and said, “Not a fan of being Witch Weekly’s Most Charming Smile? I hear you stole the title from Potter this year.”

 

Neville snorted and rolled his eyes, “I can do without the staring. I’m just trying to sell some plants.”

 

You looked around the store, musing as you said, “You know . . . I bet some plants would look good in the bookstore.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yeah,” You said, more confident now, “I bet some green would really liven it up. Do you have any- er- scented shrubs or something?”

 

His eyes lit up and he stepped out from behind the counter, “I have just the thing! Give me a moment.”

 

Your eyes trailed him as he disappeared into the shelves, returning a few seconds later with a small pot in his hands. The plant inside was a dusty blue-green and had spiky ferns that waved in a slight breeze you couldn’t feel. It was taller than you expected, more like a pinecone than a squat shrub. A clean, green, slightly fruity smell was coming from it and you could feel the slight headache you had abating, your mind clearing.

 

“It’s a Thinker’s Shrub,” Neville said, answering the question you were about to ask, “They’re good for clearing the mind and helping minor headaches. I figured it’d fit right in, in a bookstore.”

 

You took the pot he offered, running one finger down the soft leaves, “It’s perfect. Thank you.” The smell of the plant was so fresh you just wanted to breath in more and more. As you met Neville’s gaze you felt a frisson of _something_ go through your stomach.

 

Unsettled, you asked a few questions about the plant’s care and Neville answered them all. You made a point to ignore the foreign feeling, unwilling to let it be anything more. As you were finishing your purchase, an older woman and a child came into the store. You stepped out of the way and Neville moved to assist them. He spoke to the elderly woman with the same open friendliness he’d spoken to you with and you felt that fluttery feeling again. Neville was different than you had expected. Part of you had expected a hero of the war to be arrogant and full of himself, but Neville was even patient with the child.

 

“I want a flower for mama’s birthday!” The child was saying happily, “It has to be pink! Mama loves pink!”

 

“I’ll find you something beautiful,” Neville said, giving the kid a soft smile, “Come on- I’ll show you our prettiest flowers.”

 

He moved to help the child look and you left the shop, smiling to yourself. There was an extra bounce to your step as you set to sorting the orders of books that had just arrived. Neville’s smile stayed in your mind’s eye, always there when you stopped long enough to think. It was a bit ridiculous, but you couldn’t be ashamed of it. Anyone would be a little star-struck from a smile that cute and a guy that sweet. You threw yourself into your work, unwilling to examine the emotions too closely.

 

Days slid by and you fell into a familiar routine. In the mornings you’d stop by The Garden to speak with Neville. He’d tell you about the latest happenings in his shop and you’d update him on the progress of the bookstore. You learned bits and pieces about him. Neville’s favorite colour it turned out was green, he liked his coffee heaped with sugar, and he had strong opinions on fertilizer regulations. Embarrassingly enough, you found yourself getting a subscription to an herbalist magazine just so you could sound more intelligent while talking to him. You told him about your love of daisies, you told him about your cranky pet cat and your neighbour that had a million girlfriends. Slowly a bridge of trust was built. He was a gold-mine of knowledge in plants, but you were delighted to find out he also had a love of muggle fiction. Neville was interesting, you couldn’t deny it. Every morning you woke up early, eagerly looking forward to your conversations.

 

Finally, a little over a week after you’d started working on it, the bookstore was ready for its official opening. The night before you could barely sleep, stressing about the ad you’d paid for in the Prophet. It had been the final bit of money you’d had put aside for ‘Preparing the Bookstore’ and the pressure was on now. If your store failed to make back your investment, then you’d probably be returning home with your tail between your legs. That morning you skipped over your visit to The Garden, too sick with nerves to visit and determined to open early. It was a bright, crisp, cool day that had no clouds in the endless blue sky. Heart hammering, you flipped the ‘Closed’ sign to ‘Open’ and entered the store.

 

The work you’d done was obvious the second you stepped inside, and you felt your chest swell with pride looking around. Rich wooden floorboards had been polished to a near mirror and the warm toned wood was matched throughout on the shelves, chairs, and clerk counter. Tapestries hung on the end of the shelves showed various scenes from your favorite books. The longue area had plush armchairs and a couch, a perfect view out the window beside it. Novels of every colour and size adorned the shelves, ordered by author’s last name and genre. Your favorite addition however, had been Neville’s work.

 

Greenery was everywhere. From the ferns adorning the corners to the flowers spilling out of pots and window seats. Thinking Shrubs were placed generously throughout the store and an Atmosphere Charm around the more delicate plants kept everything thriving and happy. As you breathed in the fresh plant scents, you couldn’t help but feel this was _right_. You’d decided to name the store ‘Storybook Nook’ and it felt like something straight out of your kid-self’s fantasies. Shaking off the nerves, you took your place behind the counter and prepared for a day of waiting.

 

And wait you did.

 

Hours slid by with not so much as a customer. Finally, as noon was turning into evening you heard the tinkle of the bell. You looked up in excitement only to see it was Neville. He smiled at you before moving among the shelves to browse. Your hands were suddenly sweaty, and you wiped them anxiously on your robes. You hadn’t expected him to be your first customer. Every few minutes you’d sneak a glance at the man, beyond nervous to know what he thought. Neville finally returned to the counter, a small green book clasped in his hand.

 

He placed it down, saying easily, “How’s the first day of business going? I love what you’ve done with the place.”

 

“Of course, you would,” You said, snorting, “Half of the decorations were grown by you.”

 

“It was your vision, I just supplied the plants,” Neville said, a grin playing around his lips, “Enough about me though, how’s the first day going?”

 

You grimaced a little as you took his money, “Stellar. My first customer is a Wizarding hero, that’s gotta mean something right?”

 

Neville chuckled at that before saying, “Go big or go home. Don’t worry, business will pick up. This place is beautiful.”

 

“Easy for you to say, Mr. Most Charming Smile,” You teased, “You probably have witches coming by in droves. In fact, I know you do, I see them every day.”

 

He blushed a bit at that, “It’s not my fault if a bunch of witches like me for killing a bloody snake. Besides, they don’t even buy anything, they just stand around and make _eyes_ at me.”

 

“Hoping to snatch the second most desired bachelor on the market,” You noted as you handed him back his change, “Do you want a bag?”

 

He declined and then stared hard at the book in his hands, “I don’t know, it’s just- it’s just weird, with a bunch of girls hanging around all the time, _staring_ like I’m some slab of meat.”

 

A faint hint of red still rested on his cheeks and you had to hide a smile as you said, “Yeah, it’d probably get a bit wearing for sure. At least it makes the shop seem busy though.” An idea suddenly came to you, “Wait- maybe you _could_ get them to buy something. What if you started a War Hero flower collection? A different species or colour to represent each hero you want to honor. I bet they’d all be dying to buy the Neville flower.” You grinned at the half mortified, half interested look on his face.

 

“It’s an idea,” He finally managed, “I mean- I guess it’d be a nice way to honor the people who fought or died.”

 

You shrugged, stretching your stiff legs, “It’s your store. I just suggested it so maybe the hordes of fangirls will actually buy something.”

 

He wrinkled his nose, “Urgh- don’t call them _fangirls_. That makes me sound like some kind of celebrity.”

 

You laughed, saying, “You _are_ a celebrity, Nev.”

 

He looked unhappily at the ground, “I don’t _want_ to be a celebrity. I just want to grow my plants in peace.”

 

You gave him a softer smile this time, knowing you probably looked silly, but unable to help it, “Don’t worry Neville. To me you’re just that plant loving bloke next door.”

 

He gave you a smile that was so adorable it hurt, with that lopsided grin and the way his brown eyes sparkled as they crinkled. The sensation of butterflies was so powerful you knew then and there you were a goner. Neville Longbottom was quickly gaining monopoly over your heart and you didn’t even want to fight it. It was probably hopeless, ridiculous, naïve, but for one silly moment you imagined a future where he’d show you smiles like that every day. Obviously, it wasn’t love, but it was a seed. It was a seed that sat in your chest and made your heart swell in your ribcage as you stared at him.

 

“Thank you,” He said your name like it was as delicate as a petal on his tongue. In that moment you both adored and hated him for making you feel so hopelessly enamoured.

 

You cleared your throat awkwardly and said, “Thank _you_ , Neville. I probably would have an amazing total of zero customers if you hadn’t shown up.”

 

“Don’t count your eggs before they’ve hatched,” Neville said, grinning as the bell tinkled and another customer entered.

 

To your surprise it was another war hero that entered, and a girl who’d been in your year of all people. Luna Lovegood was a slender woman, with slightly protruding silver eyes and wavy dirty blonde hair. She was pleasantly attractive with delicate features and you remembered abruptly the way people had used to bully her. She still had that almost dreamy look to her, like she was floating rather than walking and when her eyes focused on you it felt like she was staring into your soul. A low shiver of unease went down your spine.

 

“You have a lovely bookstore,” Luna said, her voice had a slightly dream-like quality to it, “Did you know a Blibbering Mimbit has made its home in your flowers?”

 

“A . . .?” You trailed off, giving Neville a confused glance.

 

He just grinned as Luna continued seriously, “Yes, a Blibbering Mimbit. They’re tiny fairy-like creatures that like books and plants. Your bookstore fits the combination I’m afraid. Not to worry, they’re mostly harmless.”

 

You tried to look like you knew what she was talking about, “Oh, I see. Well thank you for letting me know.”

 

You introduced yourself and Luna smiled as she said, “My name is Luna Lovegood. You have a lovely name. Hello Neville,” She added as she looked at the man.

 

“Hey, Luna,” Neville said fondly.

 

Without further words, Luna slipped away among the shelves like a wandering ghost. You stared after the woman for a moment, unable to put into words how you felt about her. She was certainly unique. Neville laughed at the look on your face, saying, “She’s definitely an interesting girl, isn’t she?”

 

“Definitely,” You agreed, adding softly, “I like her though, she seems nice.”

 

“That she is,” Neville said.

 

After Luna had purchased her books and left, you had your third and fourth customers. During that time Neville headed home, and while you were grateful for the business, you couldn’t help but feel you would have enjoyed Neville being your only customer if he had stayed the entire night. The gooey warm feeling in your chest made you feel a little ridiculous, but you couldn’t deny it anymore. You were crushing hard on Neville Longbottom. Nobody needed to know though. You wouldn’t be an idiot an assume he’d reciprocate the feelings. No need to get your hopes up.

 

Despite what you told yourself, you dreamed of him that night.

 

-o **O** o- -o **O** o- -o **O** o-

 

Crushing on Neville was both wonderful and terrible at the same time. As the weeks slid into months, your business slowly gained a steady trickle of customers and your relationship with Neville grew closer. You could now confidently say you were friends at least. A few times you’d gone to the pub with him after both your shops closed. You knew more things about Neville, like how he hated the attention slaying Nagini had gotten him. He talked about growing up under a strict grandmother and the way everyone had been sure he was a Squib. You held the relationship in your hands like a precious flame. It burned but you wouldn’t ever want it to go out.

 

It was raining heavily when you stopped by the bakery one Friday morning. A colourful sign proclaimed a deal on the pastries, and you remembered Neville mentioning he enjoyed sweet tarts. It made you feel like an idiot, but you went in anyways. The shop was cozy and done up in warm tones, the smell of fresh bread thick on the air. You made your way to the display and perused through the selection. Finally, you decided on three different flavours of sweet tarts for Neville and a flaky sweet pastry for yourself. The rain hadn’t let up a bit as you stepped back into it, but you didn’t bother throwing up a charm. There was something soothing about the gentle patter of rain sliding into your hair.

 

Diagon Alley looked washed out under the stormy cloud cover. Small rivers of water were running down the edges of the cobbled streets and most wizards and witches wore Impervious Charms as they walked by. Rain hissed off the rooftops and drowned out the distant noise of London life. You arrived at The Garden only slightly damp, thank Merlin. The mini-jungle outside the store somehow appeared even more vibrant in the rain, certain water loving plants coming to life vibrantly in rich blues. For a moment you admired Neville’s work before letting yourself in. The man himself was standing by the counter speaking with a pretty girl you vaguely recognized as Hannah Abbott. You hesitated by the door before going to linger in the shelves, trying not to listen in but unable to ignore it either. A thrill of anxiety had made its home in your stomach.

 

“-asked about you. She wanted to know how you’ve been,” Hannah was saying, rich brown hair falling in waves down her back.

 

Neville sighed, “I’ve been fine.” He paused for a moment before letting out a breath and saying in a rush, “Why are you here, Hannah?”

 

You held your breath as she replied, “I’ve missed you, Nev. I wanted to see you.”

 

For a moment he was silent and then he said, “Hannah . . .”

 

“Just come to lunch with me,” Hannah said softly, a pleading tone in her voice, “Please, Nev? Just one meal.”

 

It tasted as bitter as a lemon when Neville said, “. . . Fine. One meal, Hannah.”

 

You took a small breath and flicked a whispered Silencing Charm at the bell plant over the door. Neither Hannah, nor Neville, looked your way as you slipped back into the rain. Breaths came harsh in your chest as you made your way across the street. There was a traitorous stinging in your eyes, but you _wouldn’t_ let it become tears. Neville was perfectly within in his own rights to have lunch with pretty Hufflepuffs. It didn’t matter. You _weren’t_ bothered. Inside the bookstore you took a moment to compose yourself. When the sick feeling in your stomach had finally settled down enough you didn’t feel on the verge of crying, you opened the store.

 

The day passed by torturously slow. You finished your flaky pastry, each bite tasting ashy. The sweet tarts sat untouched, a constant lump in your throat when you glanced at them. It probably would have made more sense to just Vanish them, but you hadn’t managed to muster up the will to. Of course, Neville would have a girl he was interested in. You didn’t know what their relationship was, but it sounded like the lunch could be the precursor to more. It made you feel like a stupid child for being this bothered. Neville had always been out of your league. As you were staring glumly at the ground during a lull in customers, you heard the tinkle of the bell. You looked up to see the fairy-like figure of Luna entering the store.

 

She smiled as she reached you, like she was sharing a private joke with you, “Hello,” She stressed the vowels of your name, saying cheerily, “You have an awful lot of Wrackspurts around you today.”

 

“Wrackspurts?” You repeated, slightly cheered by the girl’s odd manners, “What are those?”

 

“They’re creatures attracted to enchantments as well as foggy minded wizards or witches,” Luna said promptly, looking at a point just past your head, “You really do have an awful lot, is there anything on your mind?”

 

You gave a small bitter laugh, “You could say that.” For a moment you hesitated, then took the plunge, “Hey- Luna, what do you know about Hannah Abbot?”

 

The dreamy woman’s gaze slid back onto yours with startling clarity, “Hannah? She was kind to me at Hogwarts, she’d always help me find my shoes. Neville and she dated for a year after Hogwarts. I believe they broke up.”

 

The look she was giving you was a little too perceptive, you cleared you throat and said, “Oh- I see. Erm- what did you think of _Narnia_?”

 

Luna smiled at the reminder of the muggle novel she’d most recently purchased from your store, “It was lovely. Muggles have a unique talent with writing. I’ve always wondered if their lack of magic spurred their creativity to further heights.”

 

You smiled and replied, the conversation moving to safer waters. Thoughts of Neville and Hannah were shoved to the back of your mind. For the rest of the night you did everything you could to _not_ think about it. It nearly worked too. Thirty minutes to close you heard the tinkle of the bell again. You looked up in boredom, but your eyes widened when you saw Neville walking in. He looked so cute it was horrible, your throat tightening. Why could he make the ugliest green shirt you’d ever seen, adorable? Why, why, why?

 

_Why him?_

 

But of course, you knew why. Why wouldn’t you? Falling for him had been inevitable. You plastered on your best smile as Neville approached, proud when your voice didn’t waver, “Hey, Neville! Have a good day?”

 

His smile was more of a grimace when he replied, “I guess you could say that.”

 

For a moment there was silence and then he said, “Hey- have you ever been in love?”

 

Small slivers were being driven into your chest as you replied softly, “Yeah, yeah I have.”

 

“Could I- I mean- you don’t have to if you don’t want to obviously, but,” He took a deep breath and said, “Could I ask you for some advice?”

 

“Sure,” You said, your voice thankfully not coming out as a croak. This couldn’t _actually_ be happening. He was going to ask _you_ for advice on Hannah Abbot? All you wanted to do was close the store and curl up in bed at home and just forget about this entire day.

 

Neville hesitated a few seconds longer before he said, “I- um- there’s this girl I used to date. And we broke up because we both fell out of love. But just recently she’s started talking to me again and she asked me out. But-“ His voice caught and he rubbed his wrist, “I don’t understand how she can suddenly like me again.”

 

“Do _you_ still like her?” You asked, unable to stop yourself from asking.

 

He shrugged, staring at the counter, “I- maybe- I don’t know. I don’t think so. I don’t know what I’m feeling these days.”

 

You picked your words carefully as you said, “Well, you should probably think on it. But don’t enter a relationship without feelings expecting them to suddenly grow. It’s not a guarantee. You should do what makes _you_ happy, not what makes other people happy.”

 

He gave you a grateful look, a smile curving his lips, “Yeah- yeah, I think you’re right.”

 

His smile undid something in you and you had to turn away quickly so he wouldn’t see your heart written on your face. Hands shaking slightly, you grabbed the untouched tart bag. “Here,” You said, voice breaking a little, “I- er- there was a sale but I was full, so I didn’t eat these and- and anyways you can have these, if you want.”

 

You cringed a little at your word vomit, but Neville just beamed at you, taking the bag as he said, “Thanks! I’m starved- I was too nervous to eat lunch.” His face lit up as he looked inside, “Merlin- yes! I love these things!” This time he thanked you by name and you tried to ignore the heat rising to your cheeks.

 

“N-no problem.”

 

Neville took a bite from one of the starts, saying when he’d swallowed, “I’m glad you bought the bar. You’re pretty alright.”

 

“Careful now,” You said, torn between wanting to smile and cry, “That sounded almost fond.”

 

He smiled at you, open and honest, “Probably because I’m fond of you.”

 

“Mushy git,” You muttered, as if you weren’t falling to pieces inside talking to him, “You’re pretty alright yourself.”

 

That was the whole crux of the problem. Neville was more than pretty alright. He was driving you off the walls crazy and you didn’t know what to do. Crushing on Neville was both wonderful and terrible, but mostly it was terrible. He was bright and pure and good, and you didn’t know how to act around him when all you wanted to do was kiss him. Feelings were terrible. Only an idiot would fall for someone they had no chance of being with.

 

Apparently, you were an idiot.

 

-o **O** o- -o **O** o- -o **O** o-

 

Three weeks passed and the slow death that was adoring Neville Longbottom had reached new levels of torture. You dreamed of him, you thought of him when certain songs came on the wireless, and you knew you’d reached new levels of pathetic when every plant you saw made you think of him. It didn’t help that he was an amazing friend and listened when you needed to talk. He understood when you talked about your mother’s expectations and never living up to them. Neville didn’t judge when you talked about missing your friend who’d gone to work overseas. His presence, hell even his smell, was a slow burn to insanity. When you woke up for the third night in a row of dreaming about simply _cuddling_ with him, you were done.

 

Hot water ran down your body as you showered, scrubbing roughly with sweet scented soap. It was enough. You’d had enough. Your mind was on one track as you heated up Grumpy’s breakfast and made your own. There would be no more hiding, there would be no more pining. You would tell Neville exactly once, how you felt. He would know and you would _finally_ know for sure what he thought of you. If he could think of you as something more. And if he didn’t, you would lay those feelings to rest finally, even if you had to smother them for years. It hurt too much to keep wondering. Hannah may have not become his girlfriend, but any day he could start dating someone. You had to at least try. At least once.

 

It didn’t help you from feeling any less sick to your stomach.

 

London had decided to be its usual self, so a thin drizzle of rain was coming down that day. You didn’t bother with an Impervious as you made your way down the cobbled streets. Diagon Alley was decently busy that morning, witches and wizards going from store to store. The babble of voices was almost enough to drown out your inner turmoil. You couldn’t believe you were _actually_ going to tell him. You were insane. But not telling him would just drive you even further insane. There was no way out but telling him and you reminded yourself that over and over as you walked up to the door of The Garden.

 

The bell plant chimed at your arrival. Neville was stood in front of the counter looking as hopelessly handsome as usual and you felt your heart racing in your chest. He was sorting through the small jars on display, not having noticed your entrance. You swallowed hard. One step, two steps, you forced yourself to walk up the counter. It was a struggle to sound normal as you spoke.

 

“Hey Neville.”

 

He looked up and gave you his usual gentle smile as he greeted you by name and said, “You look a little red. Were you running around in the rain again?”

 

“Y-yeah,” You admitted, staring at ground, “I- um- do you- I mean- I was hoping I could speak to you about something.”

 

Neville gave you a curious look, straightening up as he said, “Sure, go ahead.”

 

Your hands were shaking so you balled them into fists. You felt dizzy. Someone must have put mercury in your morning coffee because surely you were gone insane. It was the only explanation for why you’d be doing this. But you also wanted to tell him so badly it hurt. He was starting to look concerned, so you blurted it out, “I like you.”

 

His eyes had widened, but you plowed on ahead, “I know it sounds insane, I know we’re just friends. But I like you. I needed to tell you, I just needed you to know. You’re kind and caring and you always have time to listen to me, and it doesn’t help that you’re bloody gorgeous. I really like you.”

 

You forced yourself to shut up then and watched him on bated breath. Someone could cook an egg on your face. For a moment he seemed speechless, before he said in an oddly formal tone, “May I give you my answer?”

 

“Of course,” You said, ridiculously anxious.

 

He kissed you.

 

It was one breath to the next and then his face was coming closer and your eyes closed on reflex. A hand cupped your cheek as his lips met yours, gentle pressure at first. For a moment you were stunned and then you were kissing him back and it was everything and more. It was soft and sweet. The warmth of Neville’s body pressed to yours was something you’d only ever dreamed of. When he pulled back you opened your eyes to see him staring warmly at you. This close you could see flecks of gold and green in his irises. His breath against your face smelled minty and fresh.

 

“I like you back,” He said softly, “I know how I feel now.”

 

You wanted to cry and laugh, but you just settled for kissing him again. This one was heavier, your arms wrapped around his neck and his wrapped around your waist. You didn’t know who initiated it looking back, but the kiss deepened, and your tongues met. It was burning warmth and aching desire and you felt like you could kiss him forever. His earth and greenery scent surrounded you and for one wonderful moment the world was perfect. Finally. It felt endless. Sadly, like all good things, it had to come to an end. At the sound of giggling you both broke apart. Two witches were standing in the door, tittering as they took in your blushing faces.

 

“Er-“ Neville looked mortified and you took mercy on him.

 

“Come by the bookstore later,” You said, giving him a smirk, “We can continue this conversation then.”

 

He flushed further, “Erm- I’d- er- I’d like that.”

 

The ladies in the door laughed harder and you gave him a quick peck on the cheek before making your way past them. Not even the drizzle having turned into a downpour could dampen your mood. Every step felt like floating. Finally, finally, finally. You wanted to laugh and dance, but you settled for splashing through the puddles like a kid. Life was good, your bookstore was thriving and you’d found love. Tipping your head back, you let the rain slide down your face. The smoky scent of Diagon Alley filled your nose, your chest full and warm. Spring meant new beginnings, and you’d found yours in more ways than one.

 

You smiled.

 

-o **O** o- **_-_** _Epilogue_ \- -o **O** o-

 

Sleep released you slowly, dreams blending into reality. Thick syrupy sunlight was spilling across the soft cotton sheets covering you, birdsong coming in through the open window. You took a deep breath, chest rising as you snuggled further into the body behind you. The world felt at peace. Neville’s smell surrounded you, green and earthy and _right_. You rolled over and smiled at the childish look on your fiancé’s face. He looked so young in his sleep it was hard to believe he’d slain Nagini and led a resistance. You kissed him, your smile widening as he woke up and began kissing you back.

 

“Good morning, plant boy,” You whispered against his lips before rolling over and snuggling against him.

 

He moved his kisses to your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin as he said, “Good morning to you too. Did you sleep well?”

 

“As well as I could with a chainsaw beside me,” You teased, enjoying the tickle of his lips.

 

Neville laughed and nuzzled into the crook of your neck while he said, “You’re exaggerating.”

 

Of course, you were, but there was beauty in the simple banter. Your shared bedroom around you was filled with thriving greenery, bookshelves scattered about. The muted coffee brown walls were plastered with photos where there was space. Friends and family smiled and waved out at you from hundreds of tiny worlds, captured in a moment. Neville’s arms around you were a warm comforting weight. It felt like nothing could touch you while you were laying with him. A tiny piece of heaven was carved out every morning you got to wake up to this, despite the bedhead and morning breath. The world would be a pittance compared to this moment.

 

You breathed and reminded yourself this was real.

 

“Did I ever tell you how much I love you?” You asked, nearly boneless in his arms.

 

He chuckled, the reverberations doing tantalizing things to your neck, “I’m not sure, you can tell me again if you’d like.”

 

“I love you,” You said, the words a promise, “You hopelessly wonderful, plant loving git.”

 

“I love you too.”

 

Laying there in the sunlight together you knew you’d never find another man like Neville Longbottom. His heart was gold forged in fire, precious and rare as it was. There were depths to him you’d only glimpsed. Loving Neville felt like living in a dream, even with your ups and downs. You didn’t care.

 

Sometimes dreams were just what you needed.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it! Feel free to drop me a comment if you feel like it. Good or bad, I'd like to hear your opinion on my piece.


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